CHAOS THEORY: Vibrato
Chapter 11- Plans
"It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world."
-Chaos Theory
…
"There's a ripple effect in all that we do. What you do touches me; what I do touches you."
-Anonymous
"Okay…" Puck said slowly, frowning as he examined Finn. He hit pause on the game they were playing and tossed his controller to the side, ignoring Finn's loud complaint. Puck was a total badass and a stud, but even he knew that this was too big a deal to be discussing during a game of Halo.
"Exactly how big of a moron are you?"
"What?"
Finn seemed surprised, which only pissed Puck off more.
Seriously, he had the nerve to get all pissy when Puck was honest with Kurt and trying to be helpful and awesome and stuff, and yet when Finn saw something suggesting that there was an actual danger to Kurt's well-being he was this major pussy.
"You're telling me that Kurt's song today reminded you of an assembly we had on suicide and emo crap like that, and you think it's a good idea to give him another week or two before actually doing anything? Dude, that's so stupid. Brittany could probably have come up with a better idea!"
"I'm totally smarter than Brittany," Finn muttered sullenly.
Puck snorted derisively.
"Not really, man. Brittany may be slow on the uptake most of the time, but she gets this stuff."
"She told Kurt heart attacks are from loving too much!"
"Yeah, and if I remember it right, that made Hummel feel better than you storming in and yelling at him like a damn pissed off yeti!"
Finn scowled down at the controller in his lap.
"And anyway, that was a while ago," he added defensively.
Like that made it so much better.
Puck rolled his eyes.
"I gotta tell you, with this and you pussying out and lying to Berry about being a virgin, I'm starting to see Sam's point about you not being leadership material."
"That's bull," Finn exclaimed, starting up.
"Well, prove it," Puck replied angrily, standing up as well.
Finn stared at him for a few seconds, before his eyes softened and he collapsed back onto the couch, head in his hands.
"I'm trying, y'know?" Finn said heavily after a moment. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong, though. I keep trying to do everything right and make everyone happy, but it seems like I just keep messing shit up… I know I should tell Burt," Finn added, still staring at his hands. "Right now. But I don't want Kurt to be mad at me. We only just became brothers. And you know what he's like. And he keeps saying how his Dad's still sick, and that it's his job to make sure he knows only the accessories or whatever, to make sure his heart stays good. Now that I'm Burt's son kind of to, I just keep thinking that Kurt obviously knows what's right, and I need to follow his example." Finn took a deep breath, and Puck fell heavily into the armchair again.
"I don't want Kurt mad at me, and I don't want to put Burt in the hospital again when it may actually be nothing, like Kurt says" Finn finished unhappily.
Puck tucked a hand into his Mohawk, thumbing over the soft ridge of hair at the back of his scalp.
"Honestly?" he said at last. "I kinda think Hummel's just being over the top about his Dad's health. But I get your point. Still, it's a pussy thing to do, to care more about Hummel not being pissed at you. What if it's more extreme than you think, and Hummel slits his wrists or some shit?"
"Kurt's not like that," Finn shrugged. "I know there's something up with him, but if things were that bad he'd tell someone."
"Doubtful," Puck retorted, irritation flaring again. "Besides didn't you say Hummel's song reminded you of one of those call for help warning-sign deals they talked about in a suicide assembly?"
"Yeah…"
"So? What does that tell you?"
"I get it, okay? But I still don't want to piss off Kurt and risk hurting Burt on the off chance…Wow…their names are really close aren't they?"
Puck smirked.
"Alright. I've got an idea. You think Karofsky might have something to do with what's going on with Kurt, right?"
"Yeah," Finn said slowly. "After when Kurt was all messed up last week. I mean, it had to be him right?"
"I don't know about that. Hummel's cool, but like I've said before , dude's a complete flamer. That sort of thing attracts attention of a bad kind. But still, he seems like the most likely. And you know what that means?"
"Hell yeah," Finn grinned. Then, after a moment: "Actually, could you tell me? Just in case?"
"Hey Dad, how's the spa going?"
"Hate to say it kiddo, but you were right. I haven't felt this relaxed in years. Though I'm glad I got the chance to call you finally."
"Yeah. I told you," Kurt said happily. "Didn't I tell you?"
"You did, you did," Burt Hummel laughed in reply. Then, a little more somberly, "How've you been?"
"I'm fine, Dad," Kurt said quietly, disliking the change in mood. "Absolutely fine."
"I believe you…And Finn? How's he doing?" His Dad sounded slightly dubious as he professed his so-called belief, but this was quickly belied by the interest and concern in his questions about Finn.
"As far as I know, he's doing well," Kurt informed him. "He and Puck spent a few days at Puck's place, but as far as I know they should be back tomorrow. They said Friday last time we spoke."
Kurt shrugged vaguely, the gesture automatic despite the lack of an audience.
"Anyway, did you and Carole make a decision about if you're going to stay out there any longer?"
Without realizing he was doing so, Kurt held his breath. He wanted desperately to see his father, but, at the same time, he was scared to. He felt defiled, and filthy and weak, lately, and he was terrified that it was take his father one glance, one embrace, to see the layer of grime Kurt was coated in.
And he was terrified, too, because a part of him wanted that. Wanted his Daddy to see that something was wrong and fix it. But he didn't want to be another damaged car in the shop. And even if his daddy did fix things, he'd still never look at Kurt the same way.
Kurt knew his father. Knew how knowing the things that had happened would hurt him, so much.
Kurt wantedneeded his Daddy to come home and take care of him, but...he was still going to do his best to convince Burt to stay away a little longer, give Kurt some time to get used to the way things were, to fix his mangled mask.
His dad deserved some time away from him, a break from the drama and the chore of parenting and all that jazz. If he said no to Kurt's question, that he and Carole were going to be back in a few days as originally planned, Kurt would have to convince him otherwise. Just one more week. He needed this week to let his lies of "fine" start becoming the truth.
He figured if he told himself it enough, he could make it true.
There were no other options.
"Actually, Carole's sister Karen wanted us to visit. She felt bad that she and her husband couldn't make it to the wedding, y'know? And Carole and I are considering flying up there once we're done with this spa place, but only if you and Finn are okay with it. We would only be there a couple days."
"I think I speak for both Finn and I when I say that we can handle a couple extra days without you and Carole," Kurt laughed, relief and sadness waging a fierce war in his aching chest. His stomach throbbed.
"How long exactly would you and Carole be there?"
"They wanted us two or three days, to see the sights and all, but me and Carole agreed it would be best to talk to you and see how we get along with them before we set anything in stone."
Kurt hummed slightly in acknowledgement, then proceeded with, "So, wait. I don't really know much about Carole and Finn's extended family or anything…Where do they live?"
"Missouri, I think," Burt told him. "St. Louis. It's not too far from Ohio either, so Karen's husband is probably going to just drive us up in exchange for me doing some free auto-repairs."
"That's good…Oh, you'll get to see the arch," Kurt exclaimed excitedly. "You better take so many pictures!"
"Of course," Burt grumbled, and Kurt heard himself laugh.
"On second thought, I'll ask Carole to take over picture duties when I get a-"
The doorbell rang, and then the door opened.
Kurt sighed as David Karofsky came into sight, placing a finger against his lips in a shushing motion, before continuing.
"Let me know how the spa week finishes out, alright? "
"Yeah, yeah. How's the garage?"
"It's fine, Dad," Kurt sighed. "I actually have to go…I need to make some dinner before I head to the shop tonight. I told Alex and Kyle I'd close up, and I need to go over a few statements I sorted through for you. I might have scored a really good deal for you when you get back, too, and I need to tie up a few related loose ends."
He could hear his Dad's tounge clicking slightly through the phone. Karofsky was looking impatient.
"Just don't push yourself too much, okay , Kurt-o?"
Kurt smiled softly.
The concern in his daddy's voice made Kurt feel like a four year old crying over some small scratch or scrape all over again.
Kurt hoisted the cloak of his years and forced himself to speak.
"I'll be fine, Dad. I've got to go now though. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Call Finn alright? Once we hang up."
"Plannin' on it, kid," Burt said cheerily. "Get a good night's sleep, will you?"
"You too, Daddy. Love you."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Kurt could practically see his Dad's face crinkling as he tried to decide whether he should ask about the "daddy" they both knew Kurt only used when he was anything but fine, or if he should just let it slide.
Kurt closed his eyes, eardrums throbbing in the stabbing silence.
Finally, Burt simply said, "I Love you too kiddo. Goodnight." And Kurt said goodnight.
And that was that.
Lips were on his in an instant, hands tugging at his hair, at his clothes, arms, back, jacket sliding off and being passed somehow to Kurt's own hands, which folded the garment precisely and managed to set it on the table as his mouth, neck, cheeks, and jaw continued to be ravished.
Kurt couldn't help but think that this was becoming a little too routine for comfort…
Still, he didn't bother trying to push the older boy off. Instead, Kurt merely closed his eyes, and drifted away. For the next hour or so, Kurt played pretend as hands fell rough and soft over his skin. He was determined to be as strong in his weakness as he could possibly be, even though he wasn't all too sure what being so technically entailed. Thus, to that end, he went with it, drinking down the feeling of sex on his skin, and trying to decide if it would ever feel good beneath the twinges of lust, the way it seemed to be for every other teenager his age and all those that exchanged caresses beneath the spotlights on the Broadway stage.
He wanted it to be.
After all, beneath everything, Kurt was lonely, and he wanted more than anything to have that sort of company. To feel a little special and wanted, the way he did when he wore a particularly fashionable ensemble to school, or got a solo in Glee. Or when Blaine had taken his hand without falter and brought him to that common room. The way he'd felt as Teenage Dream played out in his ears. Except maybe, hopefully, even more.
Karofsky had indeed been right on that one count; Kurt was so very tired of feeling unwanted and alone.
He forced down the sick-feeling, with just a little more ease than he had the day before, and worked to get lost in the sensations of simply being touched.
Rachel Berry had found the perfect song.
Mr. Shuster wouldn't know what had hit him.
It would be perfect. Fantastic.
She just knew that she'd blow them all away.
She'd already contacted Tina and talked her into backing her up, as well as sent the sheet music to the members of the jazz band.
They'd all replied by now, surely, ready to heap their praise and wonder for her selection, and falling all over themselves with excitement to hear her perform such an iconic song.
Understandable of course.
Rachel was destined to be a star, and some day every one of the band members would be able to put on their resumes that they had once accompanied the Legendary Rachel Michelle Berry. It would be probably their greatest experience, and something they could look back on as a series of tremendously definitive moments in both her career and maybe even theirs. It was important to give back and, as Rachel had tried to explain to them many a time, their hard work paid off in an abundance of ways. Firstly, in helping her along her path to stardom, no matter how minor their contributions ultimately were, and, secondly, in that their future selves would be forever grateful (and they had better remember that).
Mr. Schue would see tomorrow just how much he had been ignoring and suppressing her incredible talent and, finally, the focus solo-wise would be back on her. As it should be.
And, of course, on the off chance that Mr. Schuster remained blind, her audition was still bound to place her right back in the center of all things glee, where she belonged.
His leg was-
No, his pocket-
Vibrating. There was vibrating against his leg. Upper thigh.
That couldn't...-
"Hummel, are you gonna answer your phone or what?" Karofsky asked hotly against the shell of his ear.
Kurt groaned, moving his hand with no small margin of difficulty towards his left pocket, eyes fluttering closed as his fingers found warm metal and extracted it.
One new text.
Kurt struggled to keep his eyes open in the heavy atmosphere, moving a finger painstakingly slow to press open.
And then he started up, a breathless noise of excitement escaping his lips, utterly at attention.
Karofsky tumbled to the side, eyes narrowing as he took in Kurt's obliviously happy countenance, the countertenor looking to be fully enveloped in a world all of his own. That wasn't allowed. They were…scratch that. All that mattered was that Kurt was supposed to be his and his alone. And right now he didn't seem to be.
"Who is it?" he asked sullenly.
"Oh, no-one," Kurt smiled over his phone.
Dave scowled.
"Don't lie to me," he said quietly. His voice was an odd combination of angry and vulnerable. Kurt looked up, the happiness on his face sliding away, and, not for the first time, guilt clawed at Dave's insides.
"I'm sorry," Kurt muttered. And that should have been that. Except that it wasn't, and Dave couldn't stop himself from asking once again, "Who was it?"
Kurt's glasz gaze wavered minutely, then fell to Dave's shoulder as he answered.
"Blaine. He's my friend and I haven't heard from him in a while so…" he trailed off, catching Dave's searing glower, then starting up again, defensively. "He's just a friend, and I've missed him. There's absolutely no reason for you to be mad." Harder, still. Steeled. "I've done nothing wrong."
Karofsky's teeth gritted, then he heaved a sigh, his head going to rest in his hands.
"You mean that gay hobbit, don't you?" he sneered against his palms. "The private-school freak."
"He's not a freak," Kurt retorted, reddening visibly.
Dave lifted his head to stare at Kurt, eyes widening.
"You like him," he said quietly. "Seriously, Hummel?" Kurt glowered.
"Can you please stop talking down to me?" he hissed.
"I assume he doesn't like you back, though," Karofsky continued, feigning sympathy. "You too much of a chick for him? Or too small-town? My bet's on creepy, like with Finn, except this one's gay and he still doesn't like you."
Karofsky rolled over to straddle Kurt, only to be pushed roughly away.
"You said you weren't going to be like that when you were over here," Kurt said fiercely. "I suppose I should have known better than to think your word actually meant anything, of course."
Dave scowled.
"My word means plenty, Hummel."
"Then stop doing that already," Kurt retorted angrily. "I'm sick of it!"
"Fucking ice-bitch is back, huh? You think you get to call the shots? That's not how this works."
"I can expose you," Kurt said quietly, looking away.
"And I can kill you," Karofsky retorted.
Kurt's jaw clenched and his eyes burned.
"But your word means nothing, so your threats are probably all empty, anyway, aren't they? And, while you could, I highly doubt you have the balls in the first place. After all, you're king of the closet, aren't you?"
"I've got plenty of fucking balls," Karofsky yelled furiously, standing to tower over Kurt.
Kurt looked up at him, eyes cold.
"If you did you wouldn't have to threaten me so you could stay in the closet, nor would you be half so antagonistic."
"Antaga- You don't know shit, Hummel! You're the one with no balls here. You're like a fucking girl! I don't take shit from anyone. I'm a man. You, though, you never fight back. All you do is talk and sometimes cry in that annoying one-tear way people do in chick flicks. It's pathetic!"
"Crude violence is only necessary for those of us who have not evolved past caveman," Kurt scoffed.
Karofsky's hands snapped out to grip his collar, pulling the material, and by default Kurt, forward.
"I've got plenty of fucking balls, Kurt," Karofsky repeated. Kurt clenched his hands around Karofsky's forearms, nails digging in.
"Let me go," he said quietly. "Or I'll take your advice, and I'll kick you right in the balls you're so crazy about. So hard they fall off and prove me right."
Karofsky growled and pushed his arms forward, all but throwing Kurt back into the couch and retreated to the arm chair to the side of the couch.
"You're a fucking bitch," he muttered truculently.
Kurt curled himself inwards, holding his limbs tight.
"Sometimes," he agreed, voice softer, but still with a note of defiance. He tucked his chin down, shifting slightly to pull his phone back to himself and eye the text that had started this whole fight.
See you in a week and two days! Remember- Courage. Can't wait; May the best man win! =D
He smiled to himself. He'd really been missing Blaine with everything that was going on with Karofsky and with his Glee-mates. Blaine had honestly been more of a best friend to him recently then any of his so-called best friends/family in Glee. Until that phone call of course, but, much as he hated it, Kurt understood where Blaine and the Warblers were coming from.
New Directions were certainly not the only, nor even the first, Glee club Vocal Adrenaline had messed with.
There was an angry huff from the armchair, and the smile on Kurt's face faded slightly.
"What?" he asked the jock tiredly.
Karofsky sighed, standing and walking heavily over to join Kurt on the couch. Kurt tucked his knees to his chest to make room and looked down quietly.
"I'm just trying to look out for you," David said after a long moment.
Kurt frowned down at his knees.
"How so?"
"I-…I don't really know," Karofsky offered weakly. "But you have to understand- you're- Crap. How do I say this? I don't mean to hurt you or anything, it's just, God, Kurt, you're so frustrating. It's like you're determined to not live in the real world, here. And you've always been like that, like when Puckerman and the other guys on football dumpstered you every morning, or with the slushies or when we locked you in the closet for the entire school day in your freshman year.
You always act like you're so superior and so special…and you're not! You're going to have to get that someday. Kids like us from small towns in Ohio? They don't become stars! And it drives every normal person in this school crazy to see you and that Berry freak, because you just don't seem to know your fucking place!"
Kurt swallowed convulsively, leaning slightly forward to rest his head on his knees, still facing away from the jock beside him.
"I know," he said finally, voice strangled. "That it's a long shot. Becoming a successful star or even just being someone important in this world, but…if I don't have my dreams, then I've got nothing. The only way I keep myself moving in this town, and in this life, is by believing I'll be more. I have to be. There has to be a point where I'll be great someday, so that this all can be worth it. If it doesn't get better, and if I don't get to at least try to be the star I know that I am…or at least could be…then there's no point to anything…"
"Kurt," Dave sighed. "I really am sorry to say this, but you can't do that. Honestly? You probably will get out of Lima, but it seems to me that that's the most you'll do. You're different enough to get out, sure, but that's it. You're just going to crash and burn, and I'm trying to help you realize that before it's too late. You're not actually all that special."
A tear escaped down Kurt's cheek.
"I have to be," he said, voice quiet but firm, and slightly desperate.
Dave groaned. "Can you please just stop deluding yourself already? Look, our arrangement is still in effect, and that's something right?"
Kurt turned angrily towards him, eyes glinting.
"Excuse me, but I didn't want this arrangement in the first place! You've practically forced me into it."
"Not this again," Dave sneered. "You did want it. You're just too fucking caught up in your pathetic fantasies of love and romance. Face it, Kurt, this thing with me? It's all the romance a kid like you could get in Lima, Ohio. Screwing around in janitor's closets and at your place when there's no-one else home is probably the most you could hope to get around here. And I thought you were supposed to be a guy, right? So, why the hell are you complaining when for the first time ever you're actually getting off on a pretty regular basis?"
Crimson swam across Kurt's porcelain cheeks, and engulfed the tips of his pale ears.
"I am a guy, but-… I like romance, okay? Like Broadway, where every touch is this incredible connection of love and…I don't want to be run by my hormones like those disgusting American Pie kids."
David laughed at that, unable to stop himself from reaching out and stroking a hand over Kurt's hair, steadfastly ignoring the younger's flinch.
"I'm surprised you've seen that movie. But, see, there you go. You're exactly like some chick."
"I watched the very beginning out of curiosity, but it was a mistake I quickly rectified, and, for that last time, I am not a girl," Kurt retorted angrily.
"Yes you are. That's why I like you, I figure. It's just cause you look and act like a girl."
Kurt pulled away from him, reaching up to massage his temples.
"I understand that you're confused," he intoned wearily. "But I'm a guy, and if you're attracted to me, then you're attracted to a guy. I may be more…androgynous in my looks then the mainstream, but I'm still very much male, as you well know."
"Still-"
"No, David. That's not how this works."
"Shut up," David hissed.
Kurt sighed.
"Okay," he murmured. "I…I have a proposal."
"What?" Karofsky's brow crinkled.
"A proposal? If we're going to keep…doing this thing with us, I think we need a few…rules. I mean, I agreed to your arrangement, even though I didn't want to. You got your way. And I think if we could just make this as painless as possible it would be better for both of us…"
Karofsky pulled away a bit, frowning.
"You don't get to call the shots here, Hummel. How many times do I have to say it?"
Kurt closed his eyes and swallowed again, licking his dry lips.
"I understand how being effectively blackmailed works," he said quietly. "I'm just saying that there are some things we might want to set straight or not discuss, just to avoid making things harder than they need to be."
Dave scratched at his elbow thoughtfully, finally allowing a: "You might have a point."
Kurt exhaled the breath he'd been unknowingly holding in a whoosh of pure relief, some of the tension he always felt around Karofsky, in particular since the death threat and subsequent suggestion of their current arrangement, draining away.
"But then, what do you want?"
Kurt's first instinct was to say that he wanted to not have to deal with Dave at all anymore, or not to be being blackmailed into sexual relations he didn't feel ready to have with someone he actually liked/loved, let alone the bully before him, but held his tongue. He'd already exploded too many times tonight, and if he did one more time Karofsky would be liable to kill him, or at least stop considering Kurt's feelings at all.
"…Stop calling me a girl," he settled on at length. "Or comparing me to one. Please."
Karofsky narrowed his eyes.
"I'm just telling the truth. Even the other guys in your stupid homo-explosion agree, right?"
Kurt bit his lip.
That was indeed true. And Kurt hated it, but there was practically nothing he could do in that scenario. He'd already pushed the guys in Glee past their old limits, so he looked at their attitudes as something of a long-term project; they were improving, already miles better than they used to be, and step by step Kurt figured they would continue to do so. The situation with Karofsky, on the other hand, was very different and, for Kurt, the attitude felt dangerous.
If David convinced himself he was attracted to Kurt because he was feminine, there was a possibility that he could well and truly blow up when he realized otherwise. Karofsky was simply too unpredictable, and if he were to, say, see Kurt fixing a car in the garage, something typically seen as a more masculine activity, and was still attracted to him, there was no telling what Dave was liable to do.
The possible consequences of allowing Dave's denial and homophobia to continue to fester between them were terrifying.
"I'd just really appreciate if you would stop," he responded lowly. "I may be more effeminate than most, and I tend to get along better with girls, but that does not make me one. I was born male, and I identify as male."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll try," Dave shrugged. "But only if you stop saying shit about me being gay."
Kurt opened his mouth to attempt a retort, but Karofsky shook his head.
"No. I don't know for sure what I am yet, okay? So, just, cut it out with the homo crap. And no more saying shit about me not being brave or having balls, got it?"
Kurt sighed softly.
"Is that all?"
Dave's jaw clenched for a moment as he thought, then relaxed as he shook his head in the negative.
Kurt nodded. "Fine then."
There was a moment of awkwardness, and then Karofsky stood up and left the house without another word. Kurt stared at the door for a minute after it closed, and then curled in on himself, tugging his mom's old afghan up from beneath the couch and yawning as he lay down. Kurt had found that he was always exhausted after Dave came over. He glanced at the time and was glad to note that it was early enough for him to be able to squeeze in a short nap before he needed to be at the shop. He grabbed the remote, turning on some cheesy movie on AMC, and swiftly fell into an uneasy sleep.
Rachel grinned to herself as the bell rang, gathering her books. It was eighth period now, which meant time for Glee, and for her to blow everyone away just before the voting. She had rehearsed her song during lunch with Mike and Tina dancing and doing the background harmonies, and it had been absolutely amazing.
She strode determinedly towards class, excitement lighting up her face, and soon took her front row seat in the choir room, unable to contain a prime Rachel Berry grinsmirk hybrid from gracing her face.
Once everyone was assembled, Mr. Schuster went to go to the board, beginning to write the word sectionals in his usual all-caps enthusiasm-riddled scrawl, and Rachel took the opportunity to stand and go to the front of the room.
"Excuse me, Mr. Schuster, but before we do our vote, I'd like to say something."
There were a few scattered groans, in particular from Santana, that Rachel promptly ignored.
"I won't take too long," she told her teacher, smiling brilliantly.
Mr. Schue sighed, then nodded reluctantly to her. "Go ahead, Rachel. You've got the floor."
She positively beamed.
"Thank you. Tina, Mike, if you will?"
Tina and Mike stood together and joined Rachel at the front, each wearing tap shoes and looking distinctly uncomfortable as they avoided their teacher's eyes.
"What?" Mr. Schuster asked, looking alarmed and beginning to stand.
"You'll see," Rachel told him happily.
"Rachel-"
But Rachel gestured to the band, and to Brad, and the beginning music to the song "Anything Goes", from the Broadway production of the same name stirred to life over him. He scowled, but sat back on his stool, arms sidling across his chest.
Rachel took a moment to inhale through her nose and get into her character, picturing Patti LuPone's performance in her head, then turned to grin slyly at her audience and began to sing.
"Times have changed,
And we've often rewound the clock,
Since the Puritans got a shock,
When they landed on Plymouth Rock.
If today,Any shock they should try to stem,
'Stead of landing on Plymouth Rock,
Plymouth Rock would land on them.
Rachel smirked at her audience, then, just in time, fell back into a chair as Mike Chang brought it forward, perching herself with legs diagonally crossed and, as her idol had done in her incredible performance for the 1987 revival, began to slowly tease her long skirt upwards.
In olden days a glimpse of stocking
Was looked on as something shocking,
But now, God knows,
Anything Goes.
Rachel snapped to her feet, going behind the chair and pushing it aside and shaking her head at her classmates.
Good authors too who once knew better words,
Now only use four letter words
Writing prose, Anything Goes.
She approached the first row, leaning in close to Artie as she began and steadily moving around through the class, chanting the lyrics as if confiding a secret.
The world has gone mad today
And good's bad today,
And black's white today,
And day's night today,
When most guys today
That women prize today
Are just silly gigolos!
And though I'm not a great romancer
I know that I'm bound to answer
When you propose,
Anything goes
When grandmama whose age is eighty
In night clubs is getting matey with gigolo's,
Anything Goes.
When mothers pack and leave poor father
Because they decide they'd rather be tennis pros,
Anything Goes.
If driving fast cars you like,
If low bars you like,
If old hymns you like,
If bare limbs you like,
If Mae West you like
Or me undressed you like,
Why, nobody will oppose!
When every night,
The set that's smart
Is intruding in nudist parties in studios,
Anything Goes.
Rachel joined Mike and Tina in tap-dancing, swinging her arms wildly, utterly in her element, then stilled to sweep back toward her peers as the chorus kicked back in, Mike and Tina joining to back her at all the key points.
The world has gone mad today
And good's bad today,
And black's white today,
And day's night today,
When most guys today
That women prize today
Are just silly gigolos
And though I'm not a great romancer
I know that I'm bound to answer
When you propose,
Anything goes
If saying your prayers you like,
If green pears you like
If old chairs you like,
If back stairs you like,
If love affairs you like
With young bears you like,
Why nobody will oppose!
And though I'm not a great romancer
And though I'm not a great romancer
I know that I'm bound to answer
When you propose,
Anything goes...
Anything goes!"
Rachel's chest heaved as she finished off with a long belting note and waited for the eruption of applause, surprised when the sound of a mere ten people clapping met her ears instead, reality yanking her back into its stronghold.
Still, her classmates looked impressed enough, she supposed. Kind of.
"Rachel."
She turned to Mr. Schue, finding herself even more astounded when he looked at her with not the incredible awe she'd expected, but what seemed to be...anger…
"Go sit down," he directed her sharply, standing up. "Now."
She gaped at him.
"You've got to be kidding me, Mr. Schue…? My performance was amazing."
"It was," he agreed, still sounding surprisingly hostile. "Now go sit down, right now."
Rachel's nostrils flared, but she did as she was told, Tina and Mike having retreated immediately following the number.
"Honestly, Rachel," Schuster began sharply. "I'm tempted to remove you from the competition altogether after that stunt you just pulled. I told you already, this sectionals you are not going to get a solo. It's time students we have never before highlighted got their chance to shine. We are lucky enough to be a club absolutely brimming with talent, and I am not going to overlook that anymore.
I want you to remember guys- every one of you- I am in charge here, and it is not okay to just ignore my rules and do entirely your own thing. We have more than the required amount for competition, so here's your warning- If you are insubordinate or disrespectful, I will not allow you to compete. I don't want to have to do that guys, but I've had it with the attitude around here. It's about time you guys started supporting each other and working as a team.
Now, I made my decision, and I've chosen Santana to perform her song Valerie at sectionals."
"Yes," Santana exclaimed, then directing a snide, "In your face gremlin," at Rachel, who scowled furiously at the floor.
"And," Schue continued loudly, "Brittany and Mike will be performing a dance number along with it."
"What about the ballad?" Rachel asked furiously.
"I was thinking that that should go to the winners of our Duets competition."
Quinn and Sam grinned at each other, and Rachel groaned.
"Ken and Barbie? Are you kidding me? Mr. Schue, no offense to anyone, but they don't have even half enough power for-"
"Rachel," Mr. Schuster said dangerously. "Stop now or you will not compete at all."
Rachel glowered, but made a show of pursing her lips and "locking them".
"That doesn't just go for Rachel," Mr. Schue added. "Every one of you needs a major attitude adjustment. Now, we have a week to prepare for sectionals, so let's start working. Come on! Everyone up!"
"You ready, Dude?"
Finn nodded sharply, glancing around the rapidly-emptying field.
"Definitely. Let's do this."
Puck smirked, and both boys straightened, heading for the locker room, and for Karofsky.
A/N-
Oh, God, okay, so this chapter was going to have sectionals and what happens between Finn, Puck, and Karofsky in it as well, but it's already about twenty pages and almost eight thousand words, and I doubt you guys are up to reading a thirty five page chapter (since those two events alone should take up at least around fifteen pages.
I should never take more than two weeks to update this, by the way, but that may be longer for this coming one. One of my best friends and rather recent ex-boyfriend [we were together five months, and broke up but remained friends two months ago] decided that he's going to kill himself and only let me even know he's dead, and it's kind of wreaking hell on me (thus the delay on this chapter, as well. Well, that and the Chris Colfer sex riot that's occupied tumblr ever since he did Single Ladies [and sexily killed it!] for Glee Live's opening night. Btw, if anyone wants to follow me on there, I've only just recently started on it. My url is lunalitsol . tumblr . com *shameless plug*).
I do not own "Anything Goes" from the musical "Anything Goes". I based Rachel's performance on this (www. youtube . com / watch?v=t4iUxRPvgjE) video of Patti LuPone performing as the lead for the 1987 Broadway revival of the show. It's pretty amazing. ^_^ I also don't own the teensy tiny tidbits of dialogue that transferred from the episode "Special Education" as well as a minuscule single line from "Born this way".
I hope you guys like it! Thanks to everyone who's favorited or alerted this fic, as well as everyone who's reviewed. Thank you so much Avette, Fuzzylogic82, Lycoris B, I Am A Boss Zefron Poster, Jason Dragon64, Ella Greggs, clovrboy, and FireApe for your lovely reviews. Every one of you is absolutely fantastic and I am so, so grateful for your support. I should have replied to each of you by the end of the night hopefully, and apologize if I don't get to you.
On a final note, I wanted to make public the answer to one question in particular, and that related to pairings. Yes, there will likely be Klaine. I'm pretty much following canon's directions with pairings, unless the events leading to a particular pairing (i.e. Klaine, Brittana, Artittany, Fuinn, Luck) have been altered/voided by the events of this story, hinging on the closing of the doors in the first chapter. Also, I want Blaine to be helpful, but this will not be a story wherein he is Kurt's AlmightySaviour and their True Love overwhelms the effects of both traumas endured, and the importance of other characters. Nevertheless, once Blaine comes back into Kurt's life, he will definitely play more than just a minor role.
Take care everyone! And please review? They always make my day so much frickin' brighter. :)
Lots of Love you guys!
~LunalitSol~